


Go The Distance

by Kirito_Potter



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fantasizing, First Time, Hair-pulling, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Porn with Feelings, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Post-Canon, Sexual Fantasy, Skype, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22896067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirito_Potter/pseuds/Kirito_Potter
Summary: Going long-distance has been a lot easier than we thought it would be, if I'm honest.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 15
Kudos: 199





	Go The Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my betas, @sbazzing and @confessionsofachocoholic!  
> I don't have a lot to say other than please enjoy!!

**SIMON**

I'm watching a cooking video on YouTube when my mobile buzzes and a text from Baz fills the screen instead.

_ Are you free in five minutes? _

I feel myself grin before I've even finished reading it.

_ course, _ I type back, and hit Send as fast as I can.

I hop out of my seat and practically run to my desk to grab my laptop, then settle in on my bed.

Going long-distance has been a lot easier than we thought it would be, if I'm honest.

We talked about it beforehand, of course.

_ "I think I'd like to study abroad. There's this program at my uni-- they've only offered it to a few people, and I'm on the list, and I think it would be amazing." _

_ "That's great!" _

_ "But I don't know if I should go." _

_ "Why in the world not?" _

_ "I want to stay here. With you." _

_ "As romantic as that is, Baz, I won't have you missing out on an opportunity like that on my behalf." _

_ "But how are we supposed to--" _

_ "Go for it, Baz. Seriously." _

_ "But--" _

_ "Go. I'm proud of you, and you should be, too." _

_ "...Thank you." _

_ "Of course. I love you." _

_ "Love you too. And-- and I'll call you! Every day." _

_ "I really don't think it has to be every day." _

_ "Well, I'll call you. And we can Skype." _

_ "Okay." _

_ "Okay." _

We do. Skype, that is. He almost always has his hair up when he logs on, pulled into a little ponytail. I imagine it's meant to keep him cool-- it's probably a lot hotter in Greece than it is here, without the perpetual London rain. I like him with his hair up. A lot. It sort of makes me think that maybe all those times I snuck into the stands to watch him play football meant more than I realised they did.

My mobile buzzes again, and when I unlock it Baz has sent me a selfie, from the shoulders up.

He's never been one for peace signs or sticking his tongue out, but he's faintly smiling at the camera, and his free hand is raised as if to wave. It's incredibly endearing, and almost shy.

I can see his room behind him. That was one of the biggest mind-bogglers for me-- the fact that he gets his own room. I guess I figured all the students on the trip would be living together, or maybe he'd even be living with real Greeks like some weird foster home. (One where you get to eat Greek food every day instead of not eating at all.) But maybe that's part of why this program was so elite, the whole having-a-room-to-yourself thing.

I lift my mobile and take a selfie too, making a kissy face and winking. I'm only sort of doing it as a joke.

He responds only a few seconds later.  _ Is that my jumper? _

I feel myself flush. I forgot I put on his hoodie, emblazoned with his uni's logo.

_ maybe…… _

My laptop lights up with the incoming Skype call, and I grin, picking up.

Baz smiles at me, less pixelated than normal today. He's sitting on his bed, too, leaning back on his hands.

He's gorgeous, of course.

He'd try to convince me his shirt was still buttoned if I brought it up, but I really think at least half the buttons have to be done to call it  _ buttoned up. _ As it is, I can see a lot of his chest, but the fabric has been closed just enough to hide his nipples. A small movement would probably uncover them. I wonder if he positioned his shirt like that on purpose.

His hair is tied back, like I figured it would be. It's still funny seeing it like that, instead of how his hair usually frames his face. Neither one is a bad look on him, because he can pull anything off, but seeing his hair out of his eyes is just so different than what I'd been used to before he left that it excites me a little.

(Sometimes I catch myself thinking about tugging on his ponytail.)

His cheeks seem a bit pinker than normal. It makes me start to flush, too.

"Hey," he breathes.

"How are you?" I ask, already playing with a loose thread on my trackie bottoms.

"Good," he says, and I can tell he means it. "We went to a historical site, and it was honestly fascinating." He frowns. "But we were walking around in the sun for hours. I'm surprised I didn't turn to ash."

So that's why he's red in the face. Suddenly, I feel rather silly.

"What's wrong?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," I laugh. "I think your cheeks are a bit sunburnt."

His hand flies up to his face, and he touches his cheek. "Is it bad? I didn't see it in the picture."

"It's subtle," I assure him. "That's why I didn't know it was a sunburn at first."

"What else would it have been?" His expression tells me the question is for show.

"I don't know," I mumble. "Maybe seeing me in your hoodie made you happy."

Now he really does blush. "It did. You look nice."

I glance down at it. "I should have asked before I took it."

"Really, I don't mind." He pauses. "Why'd you put it on?"

"Missed you, I guess." It's a little too honest.

"I miss you, too," he sighs, smiling. "You're all I talk about, you know. I'm sure my classmates are sick of hearing me wax poetic about my boyfriend."

I can't help but grin. "Really?"

He gives me a teasing look. "I'm always quick to compare the statues of the gods to your physique."

My heart stutters in my chest.

"Uh. Thank you," I say quietly, feeling my face go warm.

Smirking, he leans forward, drawing his knees up and loosely looping his arms around them. The motion makes his shirt fall open a little more, revealing a dusty pink nipple, and even though I knew it would happen, it catches me off guard.

"You're distracted." His eyes are dark, like a storm rolling in.

"N… no," I mumble, then manage to remember how to speak properly. "No, I'm not." I shake my head defiantly.

He flashes a smile, and I think his fangs are starting to drop. "What are you thinking about?"

I grit my teeth.

He's looking at me in the way he does when he's about to snog the life out of me. When we were still at Watford, I thought it was his "I-want-to-rip-your-throat-out" look, but I've realised since then that it's actually his "I-want-to-kiss-your-neck-and-suck-hickeys-into-your-skin" look. (I suppose I wasn't  _ that _ far off.)

Clearly, everything Baz has done so far was meant to rile me up, from his open shirt to his short ponytail to the bedroom eyes he's giving me right now. Instead of plotting my demise, he's plotting to make me fall head over heels for him.

"You're so fucking hot," I blurt out before I can second-guess myself.

A surprised laugh leaves him, and he sheepishly covers his mouth. "Is that so?"

I hesitate. Baz and I have never really known where to go from here. One of us will flirt, maybe even start to move closer, and then I'll get too nervous and push him away. I never feel ready for anything more than snogging, and I don't know why because I do  _ want  _ more but I can't bring myself to ask for it, and sometimes we move on, but sometimes we just sit there feeling awkward and sorry for ourselves even though we're both gagging for it, and I always just feel so stupid.

I think I'm scared I'll make a fool of myself.

"I want to tear that flimsy excuse for a shirt off of you."

His eyes go wide. My pulse is racing.

**BAZ**

Merlin, is he being serious? He's never even attempted dirty talk, but something in my stomach is tingling.

I take the bait.

"Well, as much as I love seeing you in my clothes," I purr, "I'd much rather see you in nothing at all."

He doesn't respond for a moment, just stares at the camera.

I'm worried I've gone too far. I don't want to scare him off, like I always manage to do. He gets so dodgy around me at times like this, and I understand, I really do, but it's frustrating, and a little humiliating to be honest. I just don't want to screw things up with him, especially when we're so far away and I can't be there to assure him that everything is okay. I just want to be able to flirt with my boyfriend without him shutting down for once.

**SIMON**

I'm not sure why, but I'm strangely confident. The pressure I always feel when we get to this point is missing.

"Baz…" I start, then lick my lips. "I want to see your prick."

His jaw actually drops.

"I want to see you touch yourself." I swallow. "For me."

**BAZ**

Great fucking snakes.

I thought we were just flirting, not that he was actually going to ask for cyber sex.

I mean, I'm ecstatic, of course. I've been waiting for Snow to feel comfortable with something like this for years, and after the rocky road our relationship took in America we had to start from square one again. And if I'm being honest, my mind hasn't been the cleanest lately. (A lot of the statues aren't exactly PG in the clothing department. Sure, they aren't usually well-endowed, but the implication is there. I wasn't lying to him about how many of them look like him, whether in the face or in the toned muscles, so it's not difficult to start thinking about other parts of him as well. Altogether, it often leaves my mind spinning and my prick throbbing.)

But now? When we're not even in the same country, much less the same room?

"Are-- are you sure?" I ask, though I can already feel the strain in my trousers.

He nods, slowly and carefully. I have no idea what's going through his mind, but his expression is intense, the kind of look he used to give me when he'd try to accuse me of plotting.

"I… want to have a wank with you," he says, voice slightly rough with arousal.

What am I supposed to say to that?

"Fucking hell, Snow."

Probably not that.

He grins though, eyes half-lidded. "What, you like that idea?"

For magic's sake. It's like the floodgates have opened. He's never been so sultry and teasing before, and it's doing indecent things to me.

"Should I undress?" I ask, feeling breathless.

His tongue pokes out past his lips. "Just your shirt. And do it slowly."

Determined, I hook a finger into the collar of my shirt, pulling it open a little further. I shiver as the fabric brushes against my nipple.

Snow looks hungry, leaning closer to the camera as his blue eyes dart back and forth as if to take everything in.

I stretch a leg out across the bed, leaving the other bent, and drag my hand down my bare chest, splaying my fingers out. When I reach the first button I've actually bothered to do up, I slowly lift my hand from my skin and reach for it. I make a show out of ever-so-carefully tugging it free one-handed, wiggling it out of its place until my shirt falls open a bit more.

Snow's fingers are digging into the fabric of his trackie bottoms. He looks delectable in them-- I always tell him so, but never why I like them so much. I can see the outline of his cock in them, even on crappy Wi-Fi, and especially now that he's started getting hard. It makes me want to lean down and mouth at his erection, but all I can do is watch the screen.

I work on the second button, keeping my gaze trained on Snow's expression. I want to make sure he's actually enjoying this, and not doing it because he feels like he has to. Just because he said he was sure before doesn't necessarily mean he won't still get nervous and change his mind. If he tells me to stop, I'll stop. If he tells me to keep going, then by magic, I will.

**SIMON**

Every tiny flick of his wrist has me reeling. I've seen Baz shirtless before, even seen him taking his shirt off-- we're a little more open about that nowadays-- but it's never been like this. I feel sort of powerful, knowing all I had to say was "slowly" to get this sort of display from him.

As he works on the third and final button, I have to resist the urge to just pull my cock out of my joggers and start jacking off. I'm more than ready, but I think Baz deserves something a bit more refined in return for his stellar work so far.

His fingers dance over the button, and I think his legs shift slightly farther apart. A growl bubbles up in my throat, but I push it back down.

His shirt falls fully open, his skin slightly shiny with sweat. I wonder if it's from walking outside or arousal. Either way, I sort of wish I could smell it. It sounds gross when I put it into words, but I want to bury my face in his neck and inhale. Maybe even lick a stripe across his sweaty chest.

Should I tell him all the stuff I'm thinking? Is that how dirty talk works?

"I want to lick the sweat off you," I try.

I can't be sure with nothing but a webcam to go off of, but I think I see his pupils dilate. I'd say that was a success, then.

He rolls his shoulders back, letting his shirt slide down his arms to rest in the crooks of his elbows like a fucking feather boa. Everything he does is so goddamn elegant. It makes me want to see him be vulgar and crass and completely debauched.

**BAZ**

Clearly, I'm doing something right, because Snow looks ready to devour me. I offer him a wink, and he makes an entirely unabashedly desperate sound.

I let the shirt fall to the bed, smirking. "Was that slow enough for you?"

He nods so fast I'm surprised he doesn't get motion sickness.

"You're so fucking sexy," he grunts, and I can't help but puff my chest out a little.

"Is it your turn, then?" I ask, raising a single eyebrow. (I know he likes it when I do that, because it always makes him stare. I think it has to do with the fact that he can never manage it himself.)

"My turn?" He echoes.

I point an accusatory finger. "You  _ are _ wearing my jumper. I see it only fitting that I should get to tell you to take it off."

He stalls for a second, and I think his brain is catching up to what I've just said.

"Uh-- okay. I can do that."

He doesn't move for a moment, lips moving slightly as he thinks about it.

He reaches for the hem, then hesitates. "I mean-- I mean, I can take it off. But I don't know if I can do it like…" he blushes. "Like you did."

I feel my lips curling up into a self-satisfied grin. "Do your best, love."

He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing dramatically.

**SIMON**

Okay. Okay, I can do this. I want to be sexy for him, too. Or I at least want to try. He's looking at me so expectantly. I don't want to let him down.

**BAZ**

He pulls the jumper up slowly, giving me a sort of giddily horny look. He's just sort of doing it normally, but taking longer with it. If I were the same man I was at Watford, I'd tease him for it, but Simon Snow would never have tried to give the old me a striptease, and it's almost charming to watch anyhow.

I realise quickly that he's not wearing a shirt underneath, and that alone is enough for my face to flush with warmth. The thought of him wearing my clothes over his bare skin is too much. And I know for a fact that he doesn't wear pants under his trackies, either, which only adds to the excitement. Although it isn't much of a spectacle, knowing how little there is for him to take off is sexy in itself as he reveals more and more of his stomach. Besides, I really think he's trying.

"You're so fit. You look like a bloody supermodel," I say, mostly to encourage him, but also because it's true. His abs flex with his movements, and it's very distracting.

He grins at the praise, finally lifting the jumper enough to show off his chest. I want nothing more than to bite and suck at his nipples until he's crying from overstimulation. I decide not to tell him so, though-- besides the fact that I'm physically incapable of accomplishing that goal right now, he seems pretty vanilla. We'll have to work our way up to the more intense stuff.

When he brings the damned thing up over his head, his bronze curls come tumbling out, bouncing and shiny. He tosses my jumper aside, and it lands somewhere off-screen.

I know it was sort of a pitiful attempt, but the look on his face is so excited that I can't help but shiver.

"Fuck, I can't wait anymore," he growls, eyes bright with lightning. "Baz, I want to see you, please, Merlin. Please, I want to see your prick. I want to see you touch yourself."

He sounds so desperate, like he can't live without me. It's a wonderful feeling to be needed, but I've been on the other end before. I'd never deny him.

I move my hand over the tent in my trousers, teasing the both of us as my fingers brush against my clothed cock. I do my best to look put-together. Then, carefully, I slide my belt out of its buckle before slowly dragging my zipper down. I can just barely see my pants' striped pattern in the smaller window in the corner of the screen.

My heart stutters as I slip my hand under the waistband. I pull my cock out.

**SIMON**

It's weirdly beautiful, like the rest of him. It's sort of fatter than I was expecting; when he wraps his hand around it, his long, slender fingers meet easily, but I envision myself holding it and I know its width would be too much for my hand to get a proper grip on like his can.

"It's gorgeous," I sigh. "Is that odd? Thinking your cock is pretty? Because it is."

His face goes a pale pink, and I think I see the head of his cock flush some, too. I can't stop staring at it.

"Thank you," he says, though it sounds more like a question than anything. He smiles a little as his dark eyebrows tilt up.

**BAZ**

He's certainly unconventional, but I love him for it. And the fact that he likes the sight of my prick is such a relief, to be honest. I'd never admit it to him, but I think some part of me was worried he'd see me naked and realise he didn't even like blokes. But here he is, looking at me like I'm a three-course meal. (And this is Snow, so that's saying something.)

I start to pull my trousers and pants further down my legs. He jolts up, reaching for the camera. He says something, but it's lost, his face becoming a mess of squares.

"What?" I ask, feeling silly half on my knees with my thumbs hooked into the fabric.

The feed sharpens, and he tries again. "Don't take them off."

I laugh, settling back down and taking myself in hand.

**SIMON**

It's silly, but I don't want him completely naked, as strange as that is. Something about seeing his cock hanging out the front of his trousers lights a fire in me.

**BAZ**

I give myself a long, careful stroke, from the tip of my cock to the base. I don't have lube with me, but I don't mind as long as I start slow.

"Can I see yours too?" I ask, voice sounding more strained than I meant it to. I keep up the slow pace, more to ease into this than anything else.

He bites his lip, working it between his teeth. "Yeah. Yeah, I-- I wanna get off with you. Together."

"Good, because seeing you in those joggers is making me lose my mind," I admit with a cheeky smile.

He blushes down to his chest, and it's so cute that I have to pause my strokes for a moment.

He fumbles for the hem of his trackies, hand disappearing inside them for a moment. I brace myself.

I know I never stop talking about his freckles, but there is no way he's actually got one on his prick. It's definitely there, though small and faint, and I want to kiss it right this second.

"Well?" He asks quietly, looking nervous.

I sigh like a lovestruck schoolboy. "You're a fucking miracle, Simon Snow."

He draws his shoulders up as if to hide, but he's smiling wide, eyes shining.

His hand stays motionless on his shaft, even though he's watching me intensely.

"Are you going to wank with me or not?" I ask, flicking my thumb over the head of my cock for emphasis.

He nods wildly, but his expression is filled with worry. "Of course. Yeah. I just--"

"Relax," I assure him, hoping to keep him from getting overwhelmed and backing out. "What do you do when you're alone?"

He considers this for a moment, eyebrows pinching up. Tentatively, he gets a better grip on himself, starting with short, shallow strokes just below the head of his cock. It's clear in his motions that this is familiar to him, but it's also slightly clumsy. As he works, his eyelids start to droop, and he lets out a tiny puff of air.

"That's hot," I murmur. "Seeing you enjoy yourself."

He smiles sleepily. "Really?"

"Yeah. I like knowing you're feeling good," I chuckle. I'd like to be the reason for his pleasure, but I'm just happy to watch for now.

His hand ghosts over the head of his cock, and it comes away wet with precome, which streaks across his shaft on the downstroke. He hums softly, speeding up a little with the added lube.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask, running my thumb up and down the length of my cock.

His eyes open a bit wider. He parts his lips, hand stuttering, then closes his mouth again and shrugs.

"Is that an  _ I don't know _ shrug, or an  _ I'm embarrassed to say _ shrug?" I ask, smirking. "Because you can tell me, really."

He frowns, though I can tell it's because he's confused, not upset. "No, I just… don't really think when I get off." He shrugs again. "It's easier not to think in general, so why add thinking to something meant for pleasure?"

I can't stop the snort that leaves me. "Not that kind of thinking, Simon."

He smiles at the use of his first name, starting to move his hand again. "What other kind is there?"

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, watching him carefully. "Try this one on for size."

**SIMON**

Baz leans closer to the camera, and I get a good look at the way he's chewing on his lip. He looks predatory, like a beast I've yet to tame, but I know it's an act, because I tamed him a long time ago.

"I'm there, with you, in London," he starts, voice low and rumbling. "And you're snogging me against a wall."

I do my best to picture it, though he keeps stealing my attention away between his expression and the luxurious way he's stroking himself.

"I get on my knees and pull your prick out of your pants," he smirks. "And I take you into my mouth."

I shiver, the image of Baz staring up at me with my cock in his mouth materialising. His eyes are all he needs to convey how turned on he is. His lips wrap around my cock, already a dark pink from the snogging. He bobs his head, watching for my reaction.

"What then?" I ask, a little breathless.

He grins, baring his fangs. "You tell me."

I gape for a moment. "What, just-- make it up?"

He laughs, covering his mouth with his free hand. "It's just a fantasy, love. Imagine whatever you like. It makes things more interesting."

I consider it, running my finger along the underside of my cock. My brain shuts off for a moment as I press against the vein there, which doesn't help me think but does make me groan rather loudly.

"Uh-- okay," I nod. "You… you would get on your knees. And you'd put my cock in your mouth. Which… would feel really good, I imagine. Wet. And…" I screw my eyes shut, trying to be there in the moment. "And while you'd suck me off, I'd hold your face. Touch your cheeks. Play with your hair, push a loose strand out of the way."

**BAZ**

Like the stripping, it's a bit tame, but it's definitely something. Either way, I can tell this exercise is already having an effect on him. His cock is weeping precome at a steady rate, the head an even darker red than it was before.

I wonder if he's really never fantasised before, while he wanked or otherwise. It seems like such a natural instinct, but he's tripping over his words, though not for lack of arousal.

I rub my frenulum, mouth falling open slightly, but I resist the urge to moan, if only to keep myself from interrupting Snow. He's doing so well thus far, and I don't want him to stop for the world.

**SIMON**

I peek out of one eye, and Baz is smiling at me, looking almost proud. "Good. Keep going, darling."

The pet name sends a shiver down my spine. "And then… I'd use my hold on you to force you further onto my cock."

His eyes widen, and he makes a sound I can only describe as a snarl.

"Maybe I'd-- hold you still and fuck into your mouth."

It feels dirty to say out loud, especially when the subject of the scene is watching me, but he seems equally enraptured. I think he might be getting off on this as much as I am.

I close my eyes again, trying to centre myself. "And-- and if you gagged on my big cock-- I'd stop for a second, to let you catch your breath. But then I'd do it again." I think I'm stroking faster now than I was when I started.

**BAZ**

Merlin and Morgana. 'A bit tame,' my arse. Face-fucking? Gagging? Since when has a goody two-shoes like Snow been such a sexual deviant?

His expression is so genuine, too, the way his eyes are closed tight and his lips curl back to show his teeth. I really think this is genuinely what he wants. Here I've been, waiting for literal years for him because I thought he was just too repressed to fuck me, and he was keeping ideas like this trapped in his brain. I feel like a right knobhead right about now. But I also think I might combust.

**SIMON**

"Maybe I'd even grab your little ponytail," I groan. "I've always wanted to do that. Yank your head back, then push you right back onto my prick." I open my eyes, licking my lips.

Baz tosses his head back, and I can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "Yeah, fuck, you see? You're so good at this, baby. What else?"

"When I come," I pant, "I don't pull out of your mouth. And you try to swallow, but you choke on it, and you can't get any more, and it's all over your face." I can see it clearly, even though I'm still watching Baz as he ducks his head to look at me again. "Fuck, that's so hot." I grit my teeth. My mind is racing, though not in a bad way. "I don't wanna hurt you, not for real, but that sounds… fucking perfect. At least in my head."

He nods, playing with his bollocks as his eyelashes flutter. "Exactly. Exactly, Simon. That's so good."

I feel anxiety starting to build in my stomach as I realise what I've said. "Did I go too far? Was that too much? Baz, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable--"

"You didn't!" He says quickly, eyes flying open. "Trust me, Si, you didn't. That was so hot."

Still hesitating, I ask, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," he moans.

**BAZ**

Satisfied by my answer, the tension in Snow's shoulders disappears, and his face shifts back into one of pure pleasure. His strokes are getting more and more sloppy by the second.

"Oh, Merlin," he groans. "Baz, I--" He tries, hips bucking forward into his grip. "I--"

He sucks in a gasp, and the planes of his stomach ripple like a star collapsing in on itself. 

His cock jerks in his hand, and a spurt of come lands on his trackies, staining the fabric darker. All the while, he stares down at himself, like he can't believe this is happening. His cock twitches again, and a smaller, shorter stream leaves him, most of it dribbling down his shaft as he watches.

He gasps for breath, eyes wide and wandering as he searches the room aimlessly for something that isn't there. After a few seconds, he seems to remember where he is, finding the camera. His cock is already starting to go soft in his grip.

"Fuck," he moans. "Oh my god, Baz."

I just saw Simon Snow come, and it was the hottest fucking thing in the universe.

I shudder, frantically stroking my cock.

"Baz," Snow whispers with a tone of urgency. "Baz, get closer to the camera."

"Why?" I ask, struggling to get the word out. I move closer anyway.

"I want to see you come."

My orgasm washes over me, burning hot. My cock jumps, and I register the sound of come splattering against something, but I'm too far gone to care.

The world comes rushing back, and Simon is watching me with his mouth wide open, eyes dark with what I hope is lust.

To my horror, a rather large drop of come is sitting on the lens of my laptop camera. It's not covering the whole thing, but nearly a quarter of the viewfinder in the corner is obscured. Mortified, I reach up with a shaking hand to try and swipe it away, but I only manage to smear it, creating a hazy glow over the side of the feed. It almost looks like a stupid filter Snow might use on social media.

"Come on," I grumble. "Now I'm going to have to Google how to get this off."

"Fucking hell," Snow breathes, though I think it's not meant to be in solidarity with my frustration.

Sitting back, I let myself relax for a moment. The clean-up can wait.

"How do you feel?" I ask carefully.

Snow's face breaks into a wide grin. "Amazing. That was wicked."

I laugh. "Why the hell haven't we done something like that before?"

He bites his lip. I think I fucked up.

"I dunno," he mumbles, refusing to meet my eyes. "I guess I never felt ready. I didn't know how to explain it, because any time we got even close to just talking about sex I freaked out. But I… I wanted it. I've wanted it for a while."

I hastily tuck myself into my trousers, picking up my laptop to set it in my lap. "Simon, hey. Look at me, love."

He glances up, still worrying his lip.

"I'm happy you were able to go through with it," I say. "But more importantly, I am so glad you trusted me."

He smiles. "Yeah. Me too. And-- and thank you. For, uh, indulging me."

"Of course," I smile back. "I love you, darling. So much. I'm here for you, okay? I want you to be happy. If there's anything you need to talk about, or something you want from me, please tell me."

His eyes shine. "Okay. I love you, too."

Grinning, I add, "And Snow?"

"Yeah?" He asks, lifting his eyebrows.

"That was the best wank I've had in my life."

He sputters, blushing some. "Uh-- me too."

I smirk. "I hope we can do something like this again soon. But just know that, once I get home, we won't be leaving your room for a long time."

His mouth falls open again.

"If that's what you want," I assure him.

His eyes are wide. "It is."

Obviously, I never imagined my first  _ anything _ with Snow would be like this. (I mean that as much about it being long-distance as I do about how surprisingly dirty he can be.) But that's sort of the charm of going out with him-- nothing is how I expect it, for better or for worse. This experience was definitely for the better.

I blow him a kiss. "I'll call you again soon, love."

He waves a bit, smiling shyly. "I love you."

"Love you," I echo.

I hang up.


End file.
